It was at dinner that the party reassembled, this time in its full strength of numbers. The table was set in the Italian dining-porch, which occupied the east gable, and by reason of its uniqueness formed a charming background for the ceremony. Three of its sides were open, the over-story being supported on columns; the plaster wall was covered with masses of flowering and decorative plants, clinging to a lattice, and broken in the center by a niche enclosing an old marble fountain. Edith and Cosden greeted Huntington cordially when he came down, plying him with questions until he begged for mercy. "You don't show any ill effects from acting as trained nurse," Cosden remarked; "in fact I never saw you look so well. Glad you came in time for this farewell dinner; I'm back into the harness again to-morrow." "I wish you could stay longer, Mr. Cosden," Marian urged. "I'm ashamed of the length of time I have already imposed upon your hospitality," Cosden replied; "but you must hold Edith responsible. It takes her an eternity to get a little word of three letters out of her mouth." "That isn't a commodity which requires advertising," she remarked, tossing her head. "I'll get you yet, you little devil!" whispered Cosden. "This dinner is epoch-making," Thatcher said seriously after they were seated, "and the epochs divide themselves into two parts. The first one I'm going to explain; then, as it is proper that my wife should have the last word, Marian will tell you the second. We have with us this evening--that's the way the toastmaster usually starts in, isn't it?--a man whom I have known for several years, whose integrity is unquestioned, but who has been considered by his business associates as one who exacted his last pound of flesh." Cosden looked quickly at Thatcher, and reddened at the pointed glance which Edith gave him. "A few days ago," Thatcher continued, "owing to extraordinary business conditions, that man found the one house which he would like best to control in a position where he could legitimately force it to accept his own terms. I know, because that house was mine." "Cut it out, Thatcher," Cosden growled; "this isn't an experience meeting." Thatcher paid no attention to him. "At this crisis, I went down on my knees, and begged him a favor to accept a little trifle of four and a half millions profit in exchange for saving my house and reputation." "Harry!" Marian cried. "I've been blind to your troubles too!" "This was his chance. He remarked coolly that he had been making plans to take advantage of his opportunity when it came, handed me drafts which enabled me to weather the storm, and refused to accept one penny of the blood-money which I was only too ready to give him. That is the way our friend Cosden collects his pound of flesh." "Connie did that?" Huntington demanded, gratified beyond measure but speaking lightly to cover Cosden's embarrassment. "Why, Connie,--I thought you were a business man!"